Sore Heart
Eyes downcast, sad faced, she said,
“I never thought I’d live this long.”
She’s 89 years old and one of my
new home care clients. Her husband of 69
years had recently suffered a stroke and been transferred to a long-term
nursing facility. She’d taken care of
him for the past few years herself.
Suffering dementia and at times incontinent, she’d bathed, fed, dressed,
and cleaned up after him. It’s not easy
work for an 89 year old woman; I do it professionally and it wears you out.
I’d heard that phrase before. Too many times in fact. “I never thought I’d live this long.”
I work with the elderly. I see their suffering. In addition to physical issues, many of them
suffer with addled minds, dementia, alzheimers.
Almost all of them suffer from depression. None of them ever dreamed they would live
well into their 80’s and 90’s. Medical
science is a wonder, I guess. We live
longer these days…jury’s still out on whether we live better.
In the course of my work I see much
suffering, much loneliness, much despair.
I’ve sat with dying residents, held their hands, hugged them, kissed
them, whispered in their ears that it is, “okay, you’ll be alright, you can let
go…” I’ve had residents pass while I was
administering care on them…breathing one second, gone the next. I’ve watched others linger for days, weeks…moaning,
crying, unable to let go, scared of the beyond I guess.
I’ve also comforted the ones who
are not dying, yet. Scared eyes, looking
to me, as if I had some great understanding or wisdom. I don’t.
I can only provide a warm touch, reassuring words, a smile…sometimes I
hold their face in my palms…comfort…and it reminds me when I would do the same
for my scared children.
I work with others who provide the
same care, the same comfort that I do.
We grumble often, sometimes use dark and “gallows” humor to help us cope with the work we do. Most of the time it is monotonous,
back-breaking, thankless labor. Elderly
people are ruled by routine and ritual.
We do the same things with them, day after day, after day. Deviations from their individual routines are
upsetting to them. For us, it gets
old. Yet we go back for each shift,
punch in, and give care. Though it is
hard work, it is rewarding too. It feels
good to know that you’re helping people.
And when they smile, or laugh at your jokes, it can make your whole
shift a little easier.
Some of the people I work with are
lazy though. They provide minimal
care. They don’t do their share of the
work load. And it makes it hard for
those of us who have to pick up the slack.
Some of these people are lazy by nature.
Some of them are newer aides and never anticipated how hard this work
could be and shirk away from it. Some are
simply burnt out; they’ve been doing this so long that they’ve reached a point
of “compassion fatigue,” and they just don’t have the will anymore to care as
much as they should. It’s hard enough to
do this work and carry your own load, but when others aren’t carrying theirs,
it breeds resentment. Working mostly
with women, it can and does get pretty bitchy sometimes.
Some of the people I work with
though are not only hard and diligent workers, but they bring even more with
them to each shift. They are strong
enough of character to recognize the insanity of what we do, and still find
time and energy to smile and laugh and help not only the people they care for,
but their co-workers as well. They make
a shift go by much more pleasantly; you enjoy being teamed up with them. And sometimes, on rare occasions, you even
have fun working with them.
The old people I care for never
expected to live so long. People my age
and younger, expect to live for a good long time yet. We have dreams and aspirations, loves and
passions, people we love, people we have yet to meet and fall in love with…we
have life to live… None of us expect
that it can all end so suddenly. Though
we know life is short and precious, we don’t want to believe that sometimes it
is too short and too precious…
A woman I worked with in my old job
passed away the other day. She’d been in
a terrible motorcycle accident over a week before and had lingered in a coma
until she finally passed. She was a
mother, daughter, friend, and co-worker to many. She was a caregiver like me, a licensed nurse’s
aide. And she was one of the good
ones. Though I worked on a different
unit than her, I always remember her smile, she had a great, great smile, and a
wry sense of humor…as she went about the daily toil of our work. She cared, really cared about the people she
had on her unit. She knew her job, and she
never shirked her duties. She cared
about her co-workers too. Working with
her, you knew your shift was going to be just a little bit easier. She will be missed by them I’m sure. And though I left that job a few months ago,
I will miss her too.
My heart is sore today. People my age, good people, are not supposed to die so young. She had so much more living to do. It’s just not fair. She was a person who gave of herself, gave so
much to so many…where is the karmic justice in that? But I know…life is not fair. All we can do…is live it. Cherish it.
And love those around us who share our times.
You will be missed Jean. Much love.
Much peace. RIP, my friend…
No comments:
Post a Comment